Dog Days
by shihx
Summary: Venturing to her dark past is Shiho Miyano, carrying out illicit activities with the Black Organization. This time's target is the Diet member Kamabuchi Yamato. After risking the organization for an exposure, the drug administered to him showed up an erratic behavior. Along with Gin, Vodka, Vermouth, and Rye, their mission was to retrieve the man's corpse. A bit Gin x Sherry x Rye.
1. Chapter 1: The Plan

**Updated! You can read the story brilliantly translated in Chinese here: tieba baidu dot com slash p slash 3061852420 much thanks to yomaxcis (user no: 5743001).**

**Enjoy and thanks for the support ;]**

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The sun had just set on this fine summer day. The sky turned dark, the wind blew in intensity a tad more vigorous than before. Tokyo's lights began to shine; its soaring Bell Tree Tower, its buzzing street with honking automobiles, its high-rises in the heart of the city... every each of them agleam.

Elsewhere beneath the dim shadow of Tokyo, Chris Vineyard, sitting on the backseat of her rented limo, checked her watch. It was time.

"Please stop here,"

The driver abode. He wondered why the famed persona wanted to be left in the middle of this quiet street, but kept it to himself when he found himself busy admiring the smile on his consumer's face. If it wasn't for the bundle of cash he was receiving from her, he would have felt terrible to part with the object of his fascination during these last 5 hours.

Chris got out of the car, putting her shades on and slowly walked forwards. Taking a left turn during her stroll, she could see clearly her destination for that noon. The warehouse just by the end of the street was looking old and untended, looking like a typical meeting point where illicit plans were constructed. On her mind, the deadly woman disapproved her fellow felons' choice of assembly point.

She took time to check out the surroundings; only to find that as _risque_ as it was for a meeting to take place in such spot, the cops weren't even close into having any clues of the organization's illicit activity. Staying _en-garde_, she sneaked to the rusty door by the foul-smelling junkyard. She opened it quietly.

"You're late, Vermouth."

Gin was the first comrade to greet her that evening. She could see that he was right; probably everyone else involved in the plan were there. Gin was sitting on what looks like a shambled wooden chair in the front-most of the room, crossing his legs and putting his left arm on an equally conked out desk on his front; his air frowning in an irate demeanor. Vodka standing next to him holding what she supposed was the blueprint of today's plan.

"By six minutes? I'm sorry, unlike you all, I have big numbers of executions I need to deal with everyday, most of which goals are to ensure your safety in doing the rest of the dirty job," She grinned. She knew Gin wasn't to win this kind of argument. "So, why don't we just get on the plan?"

Gin rolled his eyes to the loyal confidant by his side, signaling him to initiate the briefing. Vodka, alarmed, opened the blueprint; showing a map of what looked like a specific corner of Tokyo.

"Our target today is Kamabuchi Yamato, 54, member of the Diet. He's been creating tunnels for our business to stay unsniffed within the government. Unluckily, for him, he was forced to spill out an upbringing of last month's Fukuoka accident, in which the bits of our Fukuoka business are in danger of exposure. However, we did manage to eliminate all risk of exposure from Fukuoka side..."

Vermouth raised her left eyebrow. "There's something off. We _did_ this mission last week. And it was your mission, Gin. During the consolidation party?"

"To make it clear, this is our second operation on him. Last week in the consolidation party we did try to intoxicate him..."

"Do we really have to go rogue for what seemed to be a small hindrance like this? The rat's probably dead anyway," Vermouth cut in, hinting on her involvement—how it had always been related to the real deal of the organization's mission. Not, in her opinion, in such a tiny objective like this one.

"...with _that_ poison," Vodka continued.

Vermouth was getting a small strike of shock. It was a tingling feeling she felt; part of which she was pissed on how insignificant this mission is, and other how she was happy hearing the cause of the entire ruckus.

"It's true. The oxymetry tracker put on him detected that he was alive. I have been monitoring it closely and it seems like he was possibly unaware of his planned murder. This mission objective is to retrieve his DNA for further research relating to the drug effects,"

A soft, monotonous, guttural voice—almost brittle—was coming out from behind the stacks of clutter just on Gin's right.

Vermouth snarked, a winning smirk formed in her face. She knew exactly whose voice it was, and she was elated to have the chance to send a bull eye retort to the voice's owner.

"My, my. Another venomous mission went wrong. Another rat went astray. Maybe it is time for you to just give up on playing with those juices, Sherry." She proceeded to glimpse on Gin trying to catch his reaction.

"Shut up, Vermouth. Or perhaps you want to take a sip of it, again? Maybe it'll work this time," Gin snapped back, in a tone so sinister Vermouth started to get upset. Well, anything with a tie to the whole poison business the organization was developing was enough to terrify her. She knew she wasn't winning this time.

"I see. We can't let the little lady does the job on her own, can we? We don't want another falling Armagnac," She tried to cover up her vexed air by making another retort to the scientist. This time, it successfully pierced a critical wound into the girl's core.

As sensitive as Vermouth was with the poisons, Sherry was more than frustrated when prompted about the falling of her late mentor, code name: Armagnac. The senior member of the organization was an associate, as well as friends, of the Miyanos. After their death, Armagnac took Sherry into custody, taking her with him to the States while preparing her to take over the labs afterwards.

Sherry did not quite understand how all her parental figures could not once escape what she claimed a curse—meeting their end before seeing Sherry strive.

She silenced in despair.

"This is wasting time,"

Plunking his back against the tarnished wall of the warehouse was a man of Gin's height; wearing all black like the rest of the meeting's attendees excluding Sherry and Vermouth, with a long hair in the same dark fashion, on top of it flocking a complementary black knit cap. His gaze was set fixed into the ground; his eyes then shut from irk.

"Give the details already," He ordered, quite brazenly. He clanked the trigger of his lighter, aiming the end of his cigarette after he set it aflame.

His voice was firm, as if the fear that was customarily—and naturally—lingering the men in black did not exist.

Vermouth recognized Rye, the newly acclaimed member of the organization. This was not their first meeting, but she was still remarking his joining the executors—Gin, Vodka, Sherry, and herself, among few others—in her mind.

"The rat will be at Yakuza Bar tonight. Vermouth, you will act as his company and drag him into this room in private" Vodka pointed a point in another blueprint. Vermouth started to hate where it was going. "You will then proceed to go out and tackle the rest of hindrances including bodyguards, press, and all their junks, while monitoring the room from the bar side. In Vermouth's signal, Rye, you go into the room and eliminate him. Through this aisle, you will proceed to bring the corpse out. Vermouth wouldn't be able to monitor this side, so I will take care of this time. Aniki will be ready to receive the corpse, and Sherry to run her tests, in our assembly point right here." Vodka explained in detail, moving his pointer finger around the map.

Rye spent a moment in silence before he uttered his view of the plan. "The risk of getting caught is high. Let Sherry come with me. We'll get into the room and she'll get to run the test on site, instead of having me wandering around with dead corpse. There's also a risk of further exposure if they decided to go all out on finding the corpse, since you can't make it disappear this time around. All in all, it's a bet too large for its gain. To boot, I'm sure Vermouth is more than capable in creating the necessary circumstance,"

"That makes quite more sense..." Vermouth concurred. She did not trust this guy, but anything that would hurt Gin's pride—even more so, splitting his being with Sherry, in any littlest moment? Heck, she knew she was all up for that.

And she was right. Gin grew in anguish hearing Rye's plan. He knew it made more sense, and it wasn't like he didn't come up with such plan in the first place. He didn't want anyone shadowing his role in the organization. And furthermore, he didn't want to let Sherry breathe the same air that lowlife breathes. He knew that small fry had been talking to her behind his back, while he and the whole organization apprehended fully Gin was the only one permitted to interact with that head of research department. Gin was aware, as well, that Rye was dating Sherry's sister, but that doesn't hinder Gin's admonition of what level of closeness Rye and Sherry could bond into. He hates—no, he _loathes_—the idea of having the object of his obsession find a more favorable embrace to run into. He _loathes_ the thought of sharing Sherry.

Sherry was fully aware of this. Rye, was fully aware of this.

"It's actually, er, _doable_, Aniki. The decision is yours..."

Vodka _was not_.

Gin relented his paranoia over his proficiency as the team leader and efficient agent. He stood up, readying himself to have Sherry loaded in the Chevrolet, as opposed to the Porsche.

"Everyone on position."


	2. Chapter 2: The Mission

"You really take joy in pissing him out, don't you?"

It was a rhetorical question. Rye did not feel like Sherry needed an answer to her question. He smirked, and stayed focused on the Chevrolet's wheel.

Sherry was amused, to say the least. She didn't always get this phenomenon; where Gin was at his wit's end, and it was related to her complicated relationship with the invincible convict himself. And the offender? None other than Moroboshi Dai, her sister's lover. She wondered if anything could turn more comical than this.

"So, how was onee-san?"

"Fine," Rye answered. "She's missing you," He added tediously.

Sherry sighed in discontent. Of course she knew her sister was missing her. And of course, she was missing her too. It was either Rye was blind or he was just merely tangled on his answer. Rye turned briefly at her, realizing he might have put the girl in a further melancholy.

"Sometime I reckon I would take you sisters out for lunch. But considering your boyfriend's rather tight on me..." He hurriedly rolled his eyes to the rear mirror. Gin's death stare was upon him from the black Porsche behind. Passing the Chevrolet in a rather raucous manner, Sherry then caught Gin's cold glimpse at her for a short—yet profound—moment. The Porsche raced to the front, now leading their rally.

Both Sherry and Rye smiled in glee. Rye was glad she was again out of her blue, even if he knew it was momentary.

"He was not jealous because of me," Sherry uttered.

Rye shrugged. How should he react to that? It was straight out clear that Gin set his gaze fix on the girl. There was no faking it. "Sure thing,"

Sherry smiled. She knew Rye wouldn't have understood how she felt. She wouldn't even try describing how she had been a mere tool of satisfaction for the villain. Just picturing that reality in her mind terrified her. She wanted to run away from that fact, except that she can't.

"Here we go," Rye announced. Sherry looked outside the window. YAKUZA BAR AND PUB was how the billboard read. Rye took three laps around the place; making sure there was no law enforcement affiliates around. On the third lap, they could see Vermouth—looking as dazing as she did—getting off the cab and making her entrance to the bar.

"She's one man eating creature. Such a real deal." Sherry spoke in favor of Vermouth, trying to fish Rye's reaction to no avail as he remained unanimated.

"She can't beat you, though," Rye finally responded. "I could swear she would kill to get Gin on her pants. Unfortunately, His Excellency has no capability to turn away his gaze from you for even one millisecond," A raunchy laughter followed his taunt.

Sherry smiled reservedly. "Shouldn't we be preparing now?"

Rye was more than prepared; a revolver on his belt, a silencer on his sleeves, another berretta on his ankle, with that fastened a sharpened knife. He even had a bulletproof vest on as a standard precaution on every mission the organization orchestrated. Sherry climbed to the back of the Chevrolet.

"Keep your gaze out," She warranted Rye.

She took off; first, her lab coat, and then second, her turtleneck crimson blouse. Her eyes fixed in the rear mirror, just in case the man sitting on the driver's seat wanted to try out his luck. She quickly put on her bulletproof vest and fixed to her body the mission suit—a black dress, fancier than not, so that she could find her way blending into the bar visitors if mission acquired so. Enclosed in her thigh piece was a pistol Gin gave her for her protection should he be absent during a necessary shoot. The last outfit she put on was a set of pearl earrings attached in the suitcase.

She climbed back onto the front seat. Rye was fixing his ear piece on his left ear. "Vermouth should give a signal any moment now," Sherry nodded accordingly, fixing her own ear piece and slipped it behind her strawberry blonde hair. She had all the research apparatus necessary in her clutch.

It did not take a long time for Vermouth to have everything under-controlled. She managed to sedate the Diet member, then gave the rest of the team the signal they had anticipated for in exactly twenty eight minutes after her infiltration. Gin parked his Porsche subsequently on the side of the bar, where he could monitor Vermouth's shadow behind the closed curtain of the room she was in with the rat. Vodka approached the bouncer in the back entrance, buying his silence for what was to happen. Rye and Sherry sneaked upstairs and found themselves on the aforementioned aisle from earlier briefing. Vodka proceeded to station himself in the same aisle discreetly, hiding his big build beneath a shadow of a pillar. The rat's bodyguards were guiding the door.

Rye was at the end of the aisle, a few steps away from the room, when they were waiting for Vermouth to transmit the next signal. Gin, able to see their shadow from his Porsche, wrinkled his forehead, facilitating his eyes to watch more attentively to his lover's doing. The door of the targeted room was slowly sliding. Vermouth got out of the room, sweet-talked the bodyguards to follow her suit with a plea of helping her with the large amount of liquors the Diet member she claimed was ordering. By this time, his bodyguards fell completely in her trap, doing as she told like a puppet on a dangling string. Vermouth turned to hiding Rye's green eyes. The signal to proceed was received.

Vodka looked out of the surroundings, tapped on his ear piece twice to transmit a confirmation to execute to Rye. Gin, monitoring from the outside an immobile shadow on the room wall tapped twice on his for another confirmation. Rye grabbed the scientist's hand and proceed to enter the room.

Rye closed the sliding door while Sherry approached the target warily. She tapped on her ear piece twice, transmitting a signal for Gin to switch on the camera view fixed on Sherry's pearl earring. She opened Kamabuchi's mouth and took a saliva sample with her swab. She collected a few strands of his hair, and finally, drew 10 milliliters of his blood, putting it in a vial, and deposit it back on her clutch. She signaled Rye that she was done, but as he took out his revolver, she deliberately stepped in his way.

"I don't think he's a threat to us anymore. Consider sparing him," She whispered, almost hissed.

Rye was startled at the girl's plea. At his utmost disgust with the corrupt Diet member, it was absolutely against his moral to kill anyone at all. But his position required him to accomplish what the organization want him to, and the capacity to perform as he may was not an option if he wished to stay as a mole for the bureau. Now that one of the leaders of the organization asked him to spare the rat's life, should he retreat right away or should he wait for further command from the upper-hands?

"_What are you waiting for? Execute!_" Gin's voice through the ear piece hit the team members. Rye heard it, Sherry heard it. Vermouth heard it too, and proceeded to buy more time for the two executors upstairs.

Rye pointed his gun and made the instructed shot. Only, it was far than a harming shot. Rather than it was on his left chest, he shot his left arm. Sherry pitched his eyes, disbelieving what she saw.

Rye took out his mobile phone, and swiftly send a message to God-knew-who, leaving Sherry wonder what was on the guy's mind. She knew she asked him to spare, but of course Rye was to do as Gin instructed. That he didn't, there ought to be a specific explanation.

Sherry took off her earrings, putting in into her clutch. She retrieved the oxymetry transmitter planted on the back of Kamabuchi's ear. In the Porsche, Gin was convinced; Sherry's earring transmission was taken in such angle that the shot appeared to have hit the man's chest before going all black as resulted of her taking it off. The pulse the oxymetry transmitted also confirmed the rat's sudden heart rate drop to zero.

"Mission accomplished. To the assembly point," Vodka announced.

Sherry was staring suspiciously at the man who grabbed her hand dragging her out of the bar at the moment. A sudden wave of distrust struck her mind. It was strange though, how she wished her suspicion was indeed right. That he was a man with dignity, unlike the rest of the people she knew. She realized there was a sudden wave of hope awoken in her core. A strange, sudden strands of relief overcame her lungs.

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Vermouth had always been a skeptic person. She found herself hard to trust anything even if she saw it before her eyes. Just like the afternoon when she checked out the surrounding of the warehouse where she and her accomplices were to meet, she decided to go upstairs just to make sure she was swept off from the cops' list of suspects. When she knew it was safe for her to do so, she sled open the door in the room the crime was just carried out in. She inspected everything—and was perplexed that she found nothing to object her innocence. She inspected the corpse lying before her, and her gaze widened in shock.

It was _not_ a corpse at all!

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**To be continued... (in A Feint Intervention)**


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